


pathetic, wretched, ruined

by sassastrophe (regulardudetier)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Drinking and booze, F/M, M/M, Unrequited, haha - Freeform, implied - Freeform, this is painful sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:20:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regulardudetier/pseuds/sassastrophe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <span class="small">three cheers for the most painful ship in the world</span>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. part un

The knock at the door is a little more hurried than Zayn would like to imagine. "Comin'!"

And then it turns into a banging, a pounding, _that's odd_.

He was sitting on his couch, that's all. Sitting on his couch, watching pointless crap telly and thinking about how nice a cigarette sounded (he promised the boys he'd attempt to stop) and not, in fact, about this; this was actually happening.

This was actually happening, three or four beers later.

"She says it's not me, it's never been me. It's just stressful. And she says she can't handle it anymore. Can you believe that? She can't handle it. Ha." 

Zayn nods.

"I just tried so hard to do everything for her, to be there for her even when I couldn't physically _be_ there for her. Crazy, innit? I mean I'm glad she didn't think I was, like, untrustworthy or something. I told her I would never, I would never ever do anything to hurt her."

Zayn nods again, finishes off another beer. 

"I keep thinking, maybe, just maybe, maybe if I can kind of...coax her out of this weird funk. Maybe I can, sort of, like, talk her back into it. Shit. I was thinking, you know, I was thinking maybe at like...maybe at like New Years or something I was going to propose. I got El to figure out her ring size and everything. I was going to _propose_."

Zayn...doesn't know what to do now. He's not looking at his friend, his eyes are carefully trained on the empty bottles in front of him. Mentally laughing, of course. How pathetic is his life.

"I loved her so much, Zayn. I don't think I've ever felt that way about someone. She meant the world to me."

Pathetic.

"But then I think about, I think about how thankful I am to have you boys. How thankful I am that I can do this at- shit, it's almost four isn't it. Did I wake you? Sorry. We have a studio day, don't we. But yeah, thankful. I. I'm so thankful, Zayn."

Wretched.

"I love you, man. I really do."

It will never mean the same, will it? 


	2. part deux

Somewhere along the lines of 'I fucking miss her' to 'I love you so much', Zayn cradled his way to Liam and held him close. 

There was this protective side of Zayn that he refused to let anyone else see, anyone else besides Liam. 

They were quite pissed now, or at least Liam was. He was laughing about Niall right now, how wonderful his new haircut looked or something. How the dark color of his hair really made his eyes pop. He wouldn't stop rambling, wouldn't stop talking about anyone else and Zayn couldn't help it but-

"Shut up."

"Eh?"

Half five.

"Shut up, stop talking, stop it. Just stop it, Li. Stop- stop hurting yourself."

Liam had pushed himself away now, staring at Zayn with incredulous eyes. "Sorry? Hurting myself?"

"Stop thinkin' about Danielle, stop thinkin' about the relationship. Stop doing that _thing_ , that thing you do where you can't stop feeling sorry for yourself and you have it so bad, but you need to stop."

The blow probably would have hurt worse if they hadn't been drinking. But Liam has a mean right swing, even out of his mind. "I didn't realize I wasn't allowed to feel sorry for myself."

And Zayn falls back, feels the bruise and doesn't think twice about returning the punch. He won't stoop so low. "'s stupid."

"Stupid?! It's stupid? Don't make me laugh." Liam has this tone, this fucking tone. He rarely uses it and when he does, it could make the happiest of people go completely mental. "Don't tell me that I'm not allowed to feel sorry for myself, don't tell me you don't feel sorry. You- I barged in here, almost four in the morning. You let me in. _You did this_. You listened to my problems, you let me talk, you were always there for me. Not my problem that you're half to hell in love with me and can't do anything about it."

_Oh_.

"Shit. You know what, I'm. I'm going to leave now. I'm going to leave, we'll pretend that this never happened. That I don't feel sick to my stomach. I'm- I'm sorry, Zayn. I'll just. I'll be. Bye."

Zayn smokes two cigarettes in those early morning hours. It's been near a month, but he's already broken.

Pathetic.


End file.
